Saimuel’s visits to his charge had increased significantly over the past months. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but it hadn’t escaped the notice of the other members of his garrison. Deyn, who told him in no uncertain terms that the human was corrupting him, first alerted him to it. Deyn was still wary of humans, despite the fact that he was warming to his charge faster than Saimuel had ever seen in the thousands of years that they had been stationed together. And of course Deyn could spend as much time with his human without arousing so much as an inkling of suspicion.
‘I am serious, Saimuel,’ Deyn insisted. ‘I do not trust this “Gabriel”. He breeds sin. He is wrathful, he is greedy, he is prideful, he is envious, exhibits gluttony and sloth and,’
Deyn looked up from his fingers, where he was counting each sin as if a tick against the human’s soul. He caught Saimuel’s eyes and gazed meaningfully into them. Even confined within a human vessel, Saimuel could feel Deyn’s Grace prodding at his own, could feel his brother’s concern.
‘Lust.’ Deyn finished gravely. ‘I do not trust him, Saimuel. I do not trust much of their species.’
Sam smiled, a sparkle in his eye. ‘You seem to trust Castiel.’ He jibed.
‘See! There! That is mockery, a human sin. That is the human corrupting you. It’s not right, not in the least. We are distinct beings, Saimuel. You must remember the burden that free will carries.’
Sam sighed. ‘Deyn, I do not think I am in as much danger as you think I am in. It would do you good to relax.’ He said, then flew off.
When Saimuel arrived, Gabriel was surrounded by pastry and flour. This was not unusual; he was a baker.
‘Gabriel.’ He said.
It wasn’t the same way that Deyn said the name of his charge, all seriousness and power. It was more like a greeting between friends. Were they friends? Saimuel hoped that they were. He did not have much experience in that area; he only had Gabriel’s advice to go by, and he assured Saimuel that he was a bit of a recluse.
‘What’s up, Samsquatch?’ Gabriel asked, only jumping slightly. Saimuel smiled; the human was growing accustomed to his visits, evidently. Gabriel was folding some pastry around a pear.
Saimuel mumbled non-committedly. ‘Nothing, really. Deyn is being obtuse, as usual.’
Gabriel hummed, plopping the pastry-pear into a saucepan filled with caramel coloured liquid. The pastry bobbed around gleefully. ‘Trouble in paradise, then?’
Saimuel swiped some sugar off the table with a finger and tasted it with the tip of his tongue. He did not usually like sweet things, but he knew that Gabriel adored them. ‘He is suggesting that you are a bad influence on me. He objects to your dietary habits and flippant manner.’
Gabriel smirked. ‘Is that so? Because Sammy-boy, you’re a pretty little angel. I could corrupt you with much more than just sarcasm and sweets.’ He said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.
Saimuel made a face, unsure as to what Gabriel was implying. The human grinned, but waved a hand dismissively. ‘Don’t worry about it, you innocent, sheltered thing.’
Saimuel tried not to sound too disappointed over the dismissal when he continued. ‘That is not the only reason I have to you. The… what do you call it? “upper management” has asked me to begin a quest of sorts. I am require to find a man, and I require your help.’
Gabriel stirred the viscous contents of the saucepan, scraping lightly at the bottom to make sure that the fresh pastry didn’t stick. ‘What kind of man? You double timing me, Sammy?’
Sam frowned disapprovingly. ‘This is no joking matter, Gabriel. We must find a crossroads demon. He is integral to our plan in averting the apocalypse. He will lead us to Satan, who you must thwart to avert the apocalypse.’
Gabriel dropped the spoon he was holding, nearly scalding himself with the caramel in his surprise. ‘What, what? Demons? Apocalypse? I thought it was only angels! Jesus, warn a guy, why don’t you?’ Gabriel steadied himself against the counter, mumbling to himself. ‘“Congratualitons, you’ve got a guardian angel, Gabe.” Okay, that’s great! “You’re descended from Norse Gods, Gabe.” Awesome! “You’re the Chosen One, Gabe.” Alright! “You’ve got to go stop the apocalypse, Gabe.” Woah, stop there! Too far!’ Gabriel looked up at Saimuel, eyes wide. ‘Sam, I can’t do this. I’m a pastry chef. I left home when I was 16. My best friends consist of my younger brother and a goddamned angel! This is not my area of expertise. I don’t know, get Cas, get Chuck, someone who isn’t me. I can’t stop the freaking apocalypse! I can’t!’ Gabriel’s protests were rising in pitch and volume and Saimuel was worried that his charge was verging on a panic attack. The angel held the shorter man in his arms and rubbed his back soothingly, as he had seen Castiel do to his clients. Saimuel made shushing noises as Gabriel repeated his name like a mantra, whispering into Saimuel’s shoulder.
‘Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam.’
‘Shh, Gabe, it’s okay. You can do this. We wouldn’t choose you if you couldn’t. Shhh.’ Saimuel said.
But Saimuel was too elaborate. Too angelic. He was beginning to prefer the one-syllable shortening falling from Gabriel’s lips. Sam. It felt solid, like Gabriel needed him to be. And it was odd, wasn’t it, how Gabriel had started preceeding heaven in his mind.
Gabriel was breathing steadily again, so Sam loosened the firm grip he had on the human. Gabriel twisted a little and looked into Sam’s eyes.
‘We chose you, Gabriel. You can do this. It is your purpose.’
‘I thought it was my purpose to make bad ass cakes.’ He grumbled, lightening a little. He slipped out of Sam’s arms and prodded at the pastry-pear, still swimming happily in the caramel, as if its creator hadn’t just had an epiphany three or so metres away. ‘Alright, what do I need for this?’ He asked, switching off the stove and pulling the pear out with a strainer spoon.
‘First, we must speak to your brother. You will need his help.’ Sam intoned, and materialised a mobile phone. ‘Family is essential.’ He added sagely.
‘Oh yeah, because that’s going to be a great conversation “Hey, little bro, haven’t talked for a while. You know those angels we’ve got? Well mine told me we have to stop the apocalypse. When can you be ‘round? Thursday? Great! I’ll bake a pie.” No, Sam. I’m not doing this over the phone. Zap me there or something. I’m doing this face to face.’ Gabriel commanded.
Sam taps his fingers to Gabriel’s forehead and they are in Castiel’s office, which is blissfully client free, because that would be one of the worst conversations Gabriel would have ever had.
‘Hey, bro.’ Gabriel greets, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of the shiny gold nameplate that read “Dr. Castiel Novak, PhD” ‘I’ve got a mission for you.’
Deyn arrived after Gabriel and Sam had explained to Castiel exactly what was going on.
‘Oh, Dean.’ Castiel said quietly, as his guardian angel arrived, unannounced, in the corner of Castiel’s consultation room. ‘Sam has been…’
‘Explaining the apocalypse, yes, I know.’ Deyn threw a particularly foul glare at his brother.
‘Dean, he has a right to know, we’re u-’
‘Dean? Dean?’ The other angel exploded. ‘Can’t you see, Saimuel, they’re changing you! They weren’t meant to know about this, about any of this!’
‘Oh, so what were we meant to do?’ Sam interrupted. By now, the air was crackling with the rage of two reasonably powerful angels. Both Castiel and Gabriel had shrunk as far away from the brothers as they could, within the confines of the small room. ‘Were we meant to just send them off, blind to the fact that they were walking off a cliff? I can’t do that, Dean. We need to help them.’
Deyn just stood there, expression unmoved.
‘Can you honestly say that you could stand by and watch your charge die? Watch Castiel die?’ And Sam had to suppress a grin, because Deyn’s face fell. He looked at his charge, eye forlorn.
‘No.’ he conceded, and slumped, defeated.
Castiel rose from his chair and walked straight to Deyn. ‘Dean. Dean, look at me.’ He said, holding the angel’s muscled shoulders. ‘I trust you. Dean, I trust you.’ He said, but both Sam and Gabe felt that there was a lot more being said by just their eyes alone.
‘Alright, then.’ Came a voice, and it was Gabriel this time.
Sam was glad, because even with his loose grasp the concept of awkwardness, the situation was starting to feel uncomfortable.
Gabriel clapped his hands on his thighs, trying to rouse enthusiasm in the room. ‘We need to actually make plans, rather than fight over them, if we want to win this thing. Where do we start?’
Shamelessly borrowing the storyline for this one from 6x04, so kinda big spoilers going on.
It was dark outside Castiel’s little office and the blinds had been drawn. A bowl lay on the table, surrounded by several coloured sands and pungent herbs. Dean had drawn a circle and some runes on the carpet. He had said it was a devil’s trap, for capturing demons, and assured Castiel that he could miracle it out of the carpet when they were finished. Castiel hoped that his office would be fine by Monday morning; he had several clients scheduled and he didn’t want to have to answer awkward questions about the state of his workspace.
A lot had changed in the few hours since Dean had arrived. He had stopped protesting to the anglicised form of his name, for starters. He had also taken on a role of a sort of General, coordinating the others and taking notes of their plans. Castiel was sure the notes were solely for his benefit, because Gabriel would never read over them in a million years and he doubted either Sam or Dean needed to refer to notes to remember the battle plans they had been preparing for since their creation.
‘Gabriel, I will need use of your blood.’ Sam said seriously, and Castiel was more than surprised by the way his brother offered his palm without protest.
Sam made a deft cut along Gabriel’s heart line and Gabriel barely winced; he had received worse cuts and burns in the kitchen. Sam let a few drops of his charge’s blood fall into the bowl, then held Gabriel’s hand in his own, healing the wound.
‘Thank you.’ He whispered to the human, almost reverently.
Sam began to speak in some language that definitely wasn’t English; Latin, if Castiel could remember anything from his lessons in high school. Suddenly, there was a cracking noise, then a sound like a vaccum, and a man appeared in the elaborate circle Dean had drawn on Castiel’s office floor.
‘Oh. Hello, boys. I’d been expecting you to come knocking.’ The man said, his irritated tone accentuated by his English accent. ‘I suppose this is about Satan?’ he asked with derision, though Castiel couldn’t determine if it was directed at him or the subject matter.
‘Drop it, Crowley. We need to know where Lucifer is, and you know where he is.’ Dean growled.
Crowley smirked. ‘Who says I’m going to comply, big boy?’ He rejoined smugly. ‘You can’t threaten me with an exorcism.’
Sam’s lips lifted, in a mockery of a mile. He hefted a large hessian bag. ‘Oh, really, McCloud?’
Crowley’s eyes widened, but he tried to pass it off. ‘No. That- that doesn’t work. It’s a myth.’
Dean scoffed. ‘We’re angels, Crowley. We know it works.’
Castiel was confused as to what was going on, and, from what he could see of his brother from the corner of his eye, Gabriel was lost as well.
Sam hefted a makeshift flamethrower; just a butane canister and a nozzle, really; and let a quick burst of flame lick at the sack. The demon in the devil’s trap contorted in pain. He let out a cry that, had it been any earlier, would have causes everyone in Castiel’s building to come rushing in, 911 on the line.
‘Where is he?’ Dean growled.
Crowley shook his head. ‘You’ll never manage it.’ The demon snarled. ‘And he’ll come for me. I’m not telling you anything.’
Sam let the flames burn the bag for longer this time and Crowley howled.
‘Tell. Us.’ Dean bit out. Castiel wasn’t sure whether he was more frightened by the demon or the angel that was supposed to be his protector.
Another burst of flame. Crowley shrieked. ‘Alright! Alright! He’s in-’ Crowley made an attempt to muffle his pained whimper. ‘He’s in Detroit.’
Sam dropped the bag to the ground with very little ceremony.
‘Go.’ Dean commanded, erasing the devil’s trap with a thought. After making sure that the angels weren’t going to smite him on the spot, the demon grabbed the bag and scurried off, his cocky self-assuredness completely gone.
Castiel hadn’t noticed that he was backed up against the wall and he hadn’t noticed that he was shaking. Dean looked over at him and visibly paled. He fell to his knees in front of Castiel, gripping his shoulders as Castiel had done to him several hours ago. Castiel shrunk back further, tucking his knees under his chin and turning his head away from Dean.
‘Cas.’ Dean pleaded, wrecked. Sometimes he forgot that Castiel was just an ordinary human, susceptible to pain and damage. ‘Cas, look at me. What’s wrong?’ Dean asked, voice soft. He had a terrible feeling in his gut that hew as the cause of this.
‘You’re…’ Castiel broke off, but turned to face Dean, cerulean eyes shining. ‘You didn’t even… he was hurting, Dean. And you didn’t care.’
Dean’s eyes widened in shock. Castiel was scared of him. Castiel, the most pure and most humble human Dean had ever met, the only one to give him any semblance of hope in his Father’s newest creations, was scared of him. He pulled the human to his chest, his lips on level with Castiel’s ear. Unsure of he was even doing the right thing, if this was the way to comfort a human with human emotions, he started to whisper to Cas. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’
Castiel gripped tighter, which Dean took as a good sign.
Sam coughed loudly in an attempt to break up the pair, but his brother and Castiel were too engrossed in each other to notice.
Gabriel nudged him in the side. ‘Reckon they’re fucking?’ he whispered conspiratorially.
‘No!’ Sam exclaimed, scandalised.
Gabriel raised a disbelieving eyebrow that clearly said “I think you should get your eyes checked because you are obviously blind”, crossed his arms and leaned back on the wall, watching the other angel-and-human duo stare meaningfully into each other’s eyes. ‘Whatever you say.’
Then Dean found Castiel’s lips and Gabriel and Sam made identical noises of disgust before fleeing the room.
Any geographical information here, I picked up from Google Maps, so sorry for any inaccuracies, Deroit/Delacroix residents. Bonus points if you can pick up on the Good Omens reference.
Gabriel and Sam had packed Castiel’s Chevrolet Impala with weapons, medical supplies and food, ready to start their trip to Detroit. He wanted to get Sam and Dean to zap them there, but Sam insisted that he and Dean would need all of the angelic strength they could muster. Thus, they decided on driving. It was around 18 hours between Delacroix and Detroit and Gabriel was sure that they would be driving for at least a week, until Sam assured Gabriel that both he and Dean could drive, and they apparently didn’t need sleep, so that answered that question.
Castiel and Dean had torn themselves away from each other and emerged from the office looking a little rumpled but happy, miraculously arriving just as Sam and Gabriel had finished packing the car. They claimed the front seat, leaving Sam and Gabriel the backseat. If Sam were a human, the lack of legroom for his large form would be a significant problem, but… well, angel.
Gabriel was a little buzzed to begin with, but he expected that it would reside after an hour or so in close quarters with his brother and two angels, but apparently not. Sam maintained that he needed rest in order to defeat Lucifer, but Gabriel was only just refraining from bouncing up and down in is seat, his veins flooded with adrenalin. Seriously, trust him to get happy chemicals off a possible suicide mission. Around the time they hit Route I-71, Sam finally gave up and used the tiniest bit of his Grace to send Gabriel into a deep sleep.
‘I’ll rouse him once we arrive.’ He assured the two men in the front.
Dean just nodded, and turned on the cassette player, Queen playing softly through the car.
Lucifer was waiting for them in a diner. Gabriel was refreshed, he was feeling clean and ready, but he was not prepared for the concept of the Devil in an off-road diner. The four of them leaned on the hood of the car, Castiel’s laptop and the notes Dean had taken spread out so they could all see.
‘Okay, so Sam and Cas will come up the flanks here,’ Dean said, motioning to a car park on the aerial shot of the diner that Cas had opened up. ‘And they’ll make sure no-one can get in the back. You and I will come throught the front, here,’ he said, drawing a line from the little green man that parked their position to the outline of the diner. ‘I should be able to cover your back, but you’ll have to fight Lucifer on your own. It’s prophecy.’
Gabriel nodded, taking a shaky breath. He wasn’t excited any more, far from it. He was scared.
‘Which reminds me,’ Sam said, moving to the boot.
He pulled out a large, long object wrapped in a canvas tarp. He held it flat on his palms and Gabriel could see the glint of a hilt peeking out from under the coarse fabric. He tugged at a corner of the fabric, just to have a look, then slipped it gingerly from Sam’s hands and hefted it.
‘That’s an archangel’s blade.’ Dean said, with obvious reverence.
Before Gabriel touched it, the sword was unremarkable. It looked like it was made of plain steel, not particularly sharp and with a typical t hilt, like to ones you say in films. Now that Gabriel held it, though, it was shining as if lit from the inside, casting a golden glow on the four of them. Indeterminate script pulsed and shifted along the blade, shining brightly before slipping back into the metal, as if the blade was liquid. It sent vibrations all the way up Gabriel’s arm, moving through his body like electricity. Gabriel was lost for words. And it sang, sweet and heavenly, filling its bearer with courage and hope.
‘You must kill Lucifer with that sword.’ Sam told him, as if it needed clarification.
Gabriel nodded solemnly and took the scabbard Sam offered him. When Gabriel let go of the sword, it appeared ordinary once more, but Gabriel could still see it as clear as day.
It was then that Sam’s statement hit him. He was about to battle the Devil. Once he entered those doors, there was no guarantee that he would walk back out. He looked over at his angel and he was lost.
‘Sam.’ He said weakly. ‘Can I talk to you? Alone?’
Sam sent his brother a confused look, but nodded in assent. ‘Come on.’ He said, and led him out of earshot of Dean and Castiel.
‘Sam, am I going to walk out of this?’ he said bluntly.
Sam blinked. ‘I can’t promise that, no.’ the angel replied, and, okay, at least he was being honest.
Gabriel hummed contemplatively. ‘Well then. Got nothing to lose, I guess.’ He said, and pulled Sam down by his lapels.
Sam pulled back in shock. ‘What?’ he yelped.
Gabriel frowned. ‘I kissed you. I’m about to die and I like you.’ he said through gritted teeth, a combination of fear and blind hope sounding a lot like anger.
‘If you don’t want me, that’s fine. I just thought I would let you know. I thought that you were thinking about this too, what with the “just checking up” that you did every other day and the dinners and the… Whatever, obviously I was wrong. If you don’t mind, I have a suicide mission to complete, so.’ Gabriel had to resist the urge to cringe, because he really did sound like a petulant child.
‘No, Gabriel,’ Sam pleaded, voice thick with emotion. ‘I do, alright, I do. I care for you and I want you safe, but I need to let you do this. And I wish, I’ve prayed, time and time again, that you didn’t have to do this. But you do. And I’m sorry.’
Gabriel was really getting tired of those two words.
Sam made a very, very human noise of frustration. ‘Words!’ he said, like it was a curse. ‘They, don’t work!’ he exclaimed and pulled Gabriel up into a much fiercer, much more powerful kiss. Their teeth clashed and their tongues tangled and it was so good and Gabriel never wanted it to stop.
Sam pulled away, breathing heavily, and looked down at his little human. The awe was obvious, even to Gabriel, who steered clear of compliments like they were landmines.
Gabriel swallowed. ‘I can deal with that answer.’ He said, trying for a joking tone, but falling flat.
Sam’s eyes were shining. ‘I’ll see you on the other side.’ He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Gabriel’s cheek. ‘Whichever side that may be.'
Lucifer had let him walk right in and Gabriel had no idea why. Of course, Dean was battling wave after wave of black-eyed bitches, but Gabriel had a clean path. He probably could have knocked on the door to a butler who asked if he wanted to hang up his coat.
The Devil was sitting at the counter on a vinyl covered stool, staring at the laminate covering and drinking a choc-mint thick shake from one of those classic 50’s milk bar glasses.
‘Hello, Gabriel.’ Lucifer greeted him.
Gabriel didn’t know what he expected Satan to sound like, but this wasn’t it. It was just the voice of an average guy, a little on the high side; not very threatening at all. Lucifer smirked, like he knew what Gabriel was thinking.
‘Yes.’ He said.
Gabriel frowned. Was he-?
‘Ye-es.’ Lucifer said again, drawing out the word, heightening his playful tone.
He slid the glass down the tabletop and as Gabriel followed its path, he noticed the pulpy arm of the dead chef hanging limply over the counter. He gagged a little, but tried to keep a straight face.
‘I know, right!’ Satan cried in disgust. ‘You humans just sicken me. All that flesh, waiting to rot. Eugh.’ He brushed imaginary lint from his shoulders. ‘You’re Father’s least efficient creatures, you know. Terrible design. Wish he’d taken you back to the drawing board when he had the chance.’
Gabriel pulled out his sword from its sheath. ‘Cut the crap, Luci. We’re here to fight, not make small talk.’
Lucifer’s eyebrows rose a little. ‘Oh, I see! Very interesting. Do you know why it has to be you?’ he asked.
Gabriel just looked at the Morningstar, confused.
‘Oh come on, you can’t be that dense. Why you were chosen. Why it has to be you who fights me. Surely you asked yourself that. Why can’t it be Saimuel or Deyn or little Castiel?’ Satan picks at his fingernails with a dagger that he had inexplicably pulled out of his pocket. ‘Well, Gabriel, it’s because you’re mine. You’ve got a seat on the throne! Prince of Hell. A whole domain of hell just for you. I’m going to give you glory and they want you to kill me! They’ve lied, Gabriel, can’t you see?’
Lucifer paused there, as if he wanted Gabriel to actually answer his question. Gabriel just brandished his sword and stepped forward.
‘Oh, no, we can’t have that.’ Satan tutted. ‘But doesn’t it make sense? You ran away because they were fighting, because you didn’t fit in, because you belonged with me. All along, you weren’t running away from them, you were running towards me.’
‘No.’ Gabriel growled. ‘No. They told me that you’d mess with my head. Just get up and fight already.’
‘Oh, alright.’ Lucifer sing-songed, dancing a little on his tip-toes.
Instinctively, Gabriel lunged, but Lucifer deflected him instantly, his dagger morphing into a full-sized blade as it swung. His sword looked like Gabriel’s, only it was mangled and charred, damaged during its time in hell.
Gabriel disengaged quickly, something that he didn’t know how to do before he did it, and feinted. Lucifer must have taken his skills for granted, because he went for it and received a nasty gash on his upper arm. He hissed in pain, the wound sizzling.
‘You’re blessed.’ Lucifer sneered.
Gabriel grinned and lunged again, but his cockiness made him clumsy and he only grazed Lucifer’s side. The Devil hissed again and Gabriel had to spin to the side to miss his wild slash. He landed a quick jab on Lucifer’s other shoulder but didn’t cover his back and felt fire burn through his blood as Lucifer’s blade gouged a deep line perpendicular to his spine. Gabriel screamed and slashed blindly. The responding sizzle told him that he had landed a blow and when he could open his eyes again, blood was dripping down Lucifer’s temple.
Gabriel paused a moment, thinking that he had his opponent momentarily stunned, but Lucifer swung his blade across Gabriel’s cheek. He heard a crack which may have been his cheekbone and felt warm blood dribble down his chin and into his mouth. He blinked, trying to regain his balance, but Lucifer advanced a little and knocked him backwards with his elbow. He swiped the blade across Gabriel’s stomach, deep and bloody.
Lucifer rose above Gabriel, a foot crushing his right shoulder to the ground and the gory tip of his blade pressed against Gabriel’s jugular. He could see the hellfire in his attacker’s eyes, they were that close. Gabriel was just about to say his last goodbyes when he saw Lucifer’s concave stomach, unprotected from an attack. Gabriel switched hands, taking the sword in his left, and thrust it upwards, feeling it slide through layers of flesh. Lucifer buckled and rolled off Gabriel to lie next to him. Gabriel wielded the sword one-handed; his right shoulder was most likely dislocated; and shoved the blade to its final destination, right through Lucifer’s throat. Light shone from the Devil’s eyes and mouth and Gabriel hid his eyes in the crook of his elbow.
Gabriel dropped his sword and pulled off his blood-soaked shirt, tearing it into strips to stem the blood flow of the wounds on his back and his stomach. His brain was so fuzzy and it was so hard to focus and…
He passed out.
They had made up an elaborate story about a violent mugging and a dagger wielding maniac when they were getting Gabriel into ER, all coordinating their stories for the police. After a week and a half, Gabriel was released from the IC ward and was put into a normal ward, just incase anything ruptured. Castiel, being family, was the first to be allowed to see him. He sat by his bed and held his hand as a mildly drugged Gabriel recounted how he defeated the Devil and saved the earth, the whole time holding back tears because he could have lost him that day.
When they could all visit him, Sam didn’t stray more than two inches from Gabriel’s side. The only thing that stopped him from lying on top of him was the fear of breaking the still-fragile human. Dean and Castiel stood at the foot of the bed, Dean’s arm slung around Castiel’s shoulders and Castiel tucked into his side.
After a comfortable silence, Sam cleared his throat. ‘We… Dean and I have something to tell you.’
‘Yeah. We’ve decided…’ Dean began, then ran a hand through his hair. ‘We’re allowed to pick our next posting, Sam and I. And, well… We want to stay here. With you and Cas. Just to help out.’
Castiel was silent. Gabriel just nodded. There was another silence.
‘I wanted to buy an apartment. For all four of us.’ Castiel said quietly.
Sam cupped Gabriel’s face. ‘So, you want us to stay?’ he asked hopefully.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, you idiot. Now, get our brothers out of the room. I wanna make out. I think Lucifer interrupted us.’
Gabriel thinks he was just about the luckiest bastard on the face of this planet.